


You're the Only Place That Feels Like Home

by Burning_Up_A_Sun



Series: You Found Me [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cliche, Clubbing, Established Relationship, Leather Trousers, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Public Hand Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 10:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4561482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/pseuds/Burning_Up_A_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What better way to spend a Christmas Day that's also the anniversary of your first date? Clubbing. In leather pants. Dance fucking. I ain't even sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're the Only Place That Feels Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the two people, w/out whom these fics would just be word jumbles. 221Btls and GeronimoandbeMAGnificent you are priceless. 
> 
> The title comes from the incredible Fall Out Boy song, "I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy And All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me"

Warm and content, Harry burrowed deeper under the covers and reached for Draco, to wrap his arms around him and pull him closer.

Cool sheets.

No Draco.

Maybe he wasn't reaching over far enough. Harry cracked open an eyelid.

No Draco.

But on Draco's pillow was a small box wrapped in bright holiday paper and a piece of parchment.

Harry smiled. It was Christmas Day _and_ the one year anniversary of their first date. Draco planned something and was determined to keep it a secret.

Harry opened the parchment first. Draco had charmed to record his voice and it rose, low and thick with sleep, surrounding Harry.

"Good morning, love. Happy Christmas and Happy First Anniversary. I got called into work early this morning just because one of the news writers decided today would be a great day to give birth." Harry knew Draco well enough to imagine the eye roll that would accompany the snark.

Harry laughed at Draco's tough-guy persona because he knew Draco put himself on call. He'd said that holidays were about kids and he'd take the holidays off when they had kids of their own. Harry'd tried to hide his smile because he knew Draco didn't realize what he'd said. _Kids of their own_. His heart skipped a beat or two.

"I have something special planned for us tonight. But for now, open the box."

Harry did. Coiled inside was a snippet of red ribbon.

"Tie it around your wrist." Draco's voice paused, giving Harry time to follow the directions.

Harry stared at the ribbon, not sure if it would fit or how to tie it with basically one hand.

Draco’s voice rose again with loving scorn. “This will go faster if you stop trying to figure it out and just do it, Potter.”

He smiled, knowing Draco would have said that if he’d been here. Harry grabbed his wand from the bedside table and tapped the parchment to pause it while he tied the ribbon on his left wrist. He tapped it again once he’d tied the ribbon. Which took way longer than it should have. Which he had no intention of ever telling Draco.

“I have to work til 10 tonight. The ribbon is a Portkey, and at 10 it will take you to meet me. No, I won’t tell you where. I’ve laid out clothes for you.”

Harry craned his neck. On the bedroom lounge chair, Draco had laid out Harry’s oldest pair of jeans and one of Draco’s shirts, a deep plum. The one he always said would be perfect for Harry because the color would complement Harry’s green eyes. Why did it still surprise Harry that Draco knew those things?

“No way that’s gonna fit,” Harry said to the empty room. “It’s at least a size too small.”

“Listen, Potter, it will fit, so stop moaning,” Draco had anticipated Harry’s reaction again. “Be in those clothes, 10 pm. Portkey.”

Draco’s voice softened, dropping its sarcastic edge. “I love you, Harry. I’ll see you tonight, and we’ll celebrate then.”

When the message ended, Harry tapped his wand against the parchment to replay it, but the damn thing, as stubborn as Malfoy, refused.

Instead, Harry slipped over to the other side of the bed, enfolding himself in Draco. The cinnamon-citrus scent of his soap still on his pillow. He felt Draco’s imprint on the sheets even though he knew it was impossible. What was possible was how Draco had imprinted himself on Harry’s life and on Harry’s heart.

He fell asleep and had vivid dreams of them celebrating with red ribbon and sex. Lots and lots of wonderful, fucking hot sex.

~~~

Harry passed the day lost amid the Weasleys at The Burrow. They eyed the ribbon around his wrist, but no one asked, too busy with food, laughter, more food, love, and more food. Harry eyed his broom when it was time for the traditional impromptu Quidditch match. “I know I’ve gained a stone from your mum’s cooking,” he said, unsure he should even try to mount the decrepit broom.

Ron laughed as he patted his round stomach. “Don’t even tell me, mate. Since Mum gave Hermione cooking lessons, I don’t fit into any of my clothes!”

The game eventually dissolved into a pile-up on the ground, mock fighting over possession of the Quaffle until Molly called them in for hot chocolate and eggnog. Harry brushed the bits of leaves off his coat, knowing he’d have to leave his family to be on time for the Portkey.

“Draco has something planned,” Harry explained as he hugged his goodbyes.

“Happy Anniversary,” Molly whispered as he held her tightest of all.

“You were right, you know. Last year you said that people come into our lives right when we need them.” Harry pulled back to kiss her cheek. “He is exactly who I needed.” He threaded his finger under the ribbon, feeling Draco with him.

~~~

At 10 o’clock Harry stood in their lounge, dressed in his shabby jeans which were more snug than he remembered them being, trainers, and Malfoy’s t-shirt which indeed was a size too small. It pulled across Harry’s chest and shoulders and sat close against his stomach. He felt exposed in it.

But, he wasn’t gonna lie. He felt—sexy as fuck. And horny. His dreams that morning left him hard, without orgasm. He really, really hoped Draco didn’t have something planned like working in a soup kitchen or volunteering at a shelter. He didn’t think his bollocks could survive that. He slid his hand into his jeans to rearrange himself, resisting the urge for a few tugs to finish himself off.

The pull of the Portkey activation caught Harry off-guard. When it dropped him in Southwark at The Ministry of Sound, he had the presence of mind to pull his hand from his trousers. This was their favorite club. The press of the bodies, the throbbing music…The nights they spent dancing there ended really well, as Harry recalled—in vivid detail.

He turned away from the queue to discretely adjust himself again. It wouldn’t make a difference; his erection pressed against the fabric of the jeans, showing everything.

A wolf-whistle caught Harry’s attention. He turned to flip the man off, but in the street light, he took in black leather pants, clinging to the man’s thighs like a second skin. Harry knew exactly how that arse would look—would feel—when he got his hands on it.

“Potter.” Draco nodded, looking Harry up and back down, his eyes resting on Harry’s crotch.

“Malfoy.” Harry whispered, not trusting his voice.

Draco smiled. “That shirt looks incredible on you. I’m glad you took my suggestion.” He dragged his finger over Harry’s hard nipple, which pushed against the thin material of the t-shirt. “Cold?”

Harry shivered, not from the weather but from the meaning in Draco’s touch.

“I put a warming charm on the shirt; perhaps I should have given you something heavier.” Draco handed over his leather jacket, and Harry hummed as he slipped into it, still warm from Draco’s body heat.

“Happy Anniversary,” Harry said. He stepped forward and took Draco’s space. “Is my gift you in those leather pants?” Harry dropped his hands down to Draco’s arse, cupping it as he kissed Draco, using the slide of lips to explain how much he wanted Draco.

“Partially, but I do have something gift wrapped for you, too.” Draco took Harry’s hand and led him around the line into the club.

The dance music pulsed, wrapping around them, meeting their heartbeats. It pulled them onto the dance floor before they even found the bar.

Then a drink. Two drinks. Ten drinks. Harry had no idea how many. They stopped dancing long enough to drink. Stop drinking long enough to dance. They had no sense of time, just the throbbing music and the press of bodies.

Harry and Draco were pushed and pulled by the movement of the crowd, until they were thrust together, moving against each other. And it felt fucking awesome. The music never stopped, just sliding from one song to the next, foreplay in itself.

Draco’s hands stroked Harry’s chest as they moved. He kept on top of the shirt, but as their kisses became hotter and messier, he slid up under it, to feel the ridges of Harry’s abs, the peaks of his nipples. Pinching. Pulling.

Harry arched his hips, and Draco shift-turned until his thigh was between Harry’s legs and he could slide, roll his body so his thigh dragged against Harry’s erection, which he swore throbbed in beat with the music.

Enough. Harry’s body buzzed with need. He pulled Draco closer, crushing his hips against Draco’s, whose cock was as hard as Harry’s. Fully outlined in the leather.

“I’m not wearing pants,” Draco said in Harry’s ear. No sense whispering; if he did, Harry would never hear him over the driving bass, and he was so fucking hot and wanting that he didn’t care if anyone heard.

Or watched.

A fucking brilliant idea.

Draco brought Harry’s hand to his leather-covered erection and pressed against it. His mouth met Harry’s again, more bite than kiss. “Unzip me.”

“Fuck, Draco,” Harry panted against Draco’s cheek. He was hot, sweaty. And he was pretty sure that the moment Draco touched him, he would come harder than he ever had. This entire day had been ball-breaking foreplay. “Not here. Take me home."

Draco grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him through the ocean of people on the dance floor. He headed to the bathroom hallway.

"I can either cast invisibility and bubble protection charms, and we can fuck right here," Draco said in between kisses, each growing more heated, "or we can go into the bathroom like everyone else.”

To force the point, Draco kissed behind Harry’s ear, nipping at the spot that he knew would make Harry weak-kneed. Which it did.

“Fuck it, cast the charms.”

As Draco cast the charms with his right hand, Harry guided Draco’s left hand to his mouth. He looked into Draco’s eyes as he kissed his fingertips, one by one, and then sucked the middle finger into his mouth.

The music faded away inside the bubble; they could hear each moan and word clearly. Draco’s voice was obscene as Harry grabbed him and stroked him through the black leather while swirling his tongue around Draco’s finger.

Harry dropped to his knees and unzipped the leather trousers, his eyes still locked on Draco’s. He mouthed Draco’s cock, biting through the leather.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” Draco moaned, his fingers pulling at Harry’s hair.

Harry pulled the leather trousers down over Draco’s hips, and once released, his cock stood away from his body, ruddy and wet.

Wrapped around his cock was a thin red ribbon, tied in a bow. A match to the one around Harry’s wrist.

Harry looked up at Draco, whose face and neck were flushed. “You’re my gift?” Harry asked, his voice soft with love.

“In case you didn’t realize, Harry. I’m giving myself to you. For as long as you want me.” Draco voice broke with the truth of his words.

Harry untied the ribbon from Draco’s cock, but instead of taking Draco into his mouth, he stood up. “Tie this around my wrist,” he said, handing Draco the ribbon and holding out his right hand.

When Draco finished, Harry untied the ribbon on his left wrist. It was no longer a Portkey, but now a symbol.

He tied it around Draco’s wrist and then cradled Draco’s face in his hands. “In case you didn’t realize, I’m yours.” Then, with strength he didn’t know he had, Harry said, “Zip up and take me home. Now. Because as fucking hot as this is, and it’s fucking hot as hell, this is no way to show you how much I love you.”

“When we get home, I’m so going to fuck you, Potter,” Draco’s voice was little more than a growl.

“You’d better.” Harry slapped Draco’s bare arse. “But Malfoy? Leave the leather pants on.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you like my Harry and Draco, try [Strawberry Rhubarb American Pie](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4313154)


End file.
